Chapter 109: The Fierce Preliminary Competition

The reporters who came to Fengtian Station this time were all professionals. Of course, the Sports Daily reporter insisted that Rousseau had broken the record three times, not twice as Zhang Zhen claimed—this was purely a matter of logic, not of sports knowledge.

Everyone knew that the winning time for the 60-meter indoor event at this year’s World Championships was 6.43 seconds.

Both athletes before them had already reached times within that championship range. With a good performance, they could certainly compete with other world-class sprinters in the indoor 60-meter event.

For domestic track and field, this was yet another breakthrough.

Although not unprecedented—after all, Liu Yu’s 110-meter hurdles record had come before—achieving such excellent results in this relatively overlooked indoor invitational was worthy of a feature.

After all, the gap between the country’s current track and field level and the world’s is so vast that any progress deserves praise.

As the announcer’s voice echoed through the stadium, congratulating both athletes on breaking records, the excitement reached its peak.

...

They lost.

After Dong Zijian pulled Zhang Zhen out from the foam mat, the first thing Zhang did was look at the electronic timing board.

He didn’t look at the numbers first, but at the order of the names.

Seeing himself in second place, an unprecedented sense of failure overwhelmed him. He stood there, initially stunned, then began to tremble quietly.

Dong Zijian noticed Zhang’s mood and put his arm around his shoulder, whispering something to him.

“Zhang Zhen!” a voice called out.

Zhang turned to see Rousseau.

...

Rousseau also saw the results.

After Lu Jinrong helped him out of the foam mat, he stretched his body a bit, feeling some discomfort in his thigh, but moving eased it considerably.

A minor injury, but nothing serious—some ointment would do.

Still... it was impressive.

Rousseau glanced toward Zhang Zhen’s side.

This kid was incredible—almost squeezing every bit of potential from the “Glass Crown” in the 60-meter event.

Compared to the performance at the Capital Station, the improvement was remarkable.

“Zhang Zhen!” Rousseau called out.

Zhang turned his head, eyes red as if on the verge of tears.

“You’re strong! World-class level!” Rousseau gave a thumbs-up.

Zhang was stunned—he clearly hadn’t expected Rousseau to be the first to congratulate him. But what was there to celebrate? He still lost.

Wasn’t this congratulation... a kind of mockery? Thinking that, Zhang couldn’t hold back his tears any longer.

The media later described this moment:

“...At the moment the results were announced, athlete Zhang Zhen shed tears of emotion, perhaps reflecting on all the effort and sacrifice that led to this sweat- and tear-filled achievement...”

In any case, Zhang remained silent during the post-race interviews, leaving the reporters to fill in the blanks.

Rousseau answered a few questions before hastily leaving to tend to his leg injury. Tomorrow’s 200-meter race was a scheduled point to earn, so he had to fight hard.

Before Rousseau and Zhang left, at the reporters’ request, the two stood in the center, flanked by their coaches, posing for numerous photos.

To the journalists, Rousseau and Zhang weren’t just the two fastest men so far in the indoor 60-meter event, but also the most captivating male athletes currently in domestic sprinting—and arguably in all competitive disciplines.

After the race, the scene’s photos spread widely, not only gracing the cover of this issue of Sports Weekly but also circulating extensively online.

Many girls who had no prior interest in track and field began to recognize domestic athletics from this photo. Their focus was simple—drawn and held by the athletes’ looks, with a side celebration of their achievements.

Rousseau watched Zhang and Dong leave quickly, feeling a twinge of regret.

Dong Zijian had recently given Rousseau many suggestions online, and Rousseau wanted to find an opportunity to talk with him.

As for Zhang, Rousseau’s feelings toward him could be summed up in two words: admiration.

He wanted to understand how Zhang managed to progress so rapidly alongside him. Rousseau relied on his status bar to aid improvement; how did Zhang achieve similar strides, keeping pace with Rousseau in the 60-meter event?

But Zhang gave neither Rousseau nor Dong any chance to talk.

Returning to the hotel, Zhang locked himself in his room, and Dong heard the sounds of things being smashed inside.

Sighing, Dong Zijian called Li Yan outside Zhang’s door.

Upon answering, Li Yan asked directly, “What was Zhang Zhen’s time?”

“6.48 seconds,” Dong replied.

“Faster, then... so Rousseau’s time is close to his?” Li Yan pressed.

Dong couldn’t help but admire Li Yan’s understanding of sprinting and his grasp of the psychology of his athletes. Zhang did indeed unleash greater potential under pressure, which also explained his unstable mental state.

“Rousseau was faster—6.46 seconds,” Dong said.

“That’s 0.06 seconds faster than at Quancheng Station. He’s probably nearing his limit,” Li Yan analyzed casually, though his focus wasn’t on Rousseau.

He told Dong, “Focus more on Zhang’s psychological state. He’s fragile under setbacks. Bring him back quickly. If necessary, tell him I can make him faster.”

“Are you not worried about Rousseau? His 60-meter times have always been a step ahead of Zhang,” Dong asked.

“As long as Zhang can reach the indoor 60-meter championship level, that’s enough. Rousseau isn’t qualified for next year’s World Championships unless he joins my team,” Li Yan said indifferently. He always positioned himself for a win-win.

Dong thought about it and found he couldn’t argue.

No matter how good Rousseau’s times were, he couldn’t go to the World Championships, so as long as Zhang’s times were good enough, that was sufficient.

A true master of logic.

A seeker of truth.

“Coach Li, how exactly did you improve Zhang Zhen’s performance? His progress has been so rapid,” Dong couldn’t help but ask.

“Is Rousseau’s progress not fast?” Li Yan countered. “Where there’s one Rousseau, there can be a second.”

Dong still had no rebuttal.

He knocked on Zhang’s door. “Zhang Zhen, get ready. We’re heading back to the capital.”

No response.

Dong tried again, “Coach Li knows your results.”

Creak.

The door opened.

Zhang, red-eyed and anxious, looked at Dong, clearly worried about Li Yan’s opinion—or rather, part of Zhang’s breakdown today stemmed from the pressure Li had placed on him, pressure born from Zhang’s own promise.

He had vowed to beat Rousseau but lost.

“Coach Li says he can make you faster.”

“All right, we’ll leave immediately!”